Chapter Twenty-Seven
T he supper was delicious, and the company was enjoyable. Liam Hallahan came to see them briefly and offered his best wishes for their upcoming marriage. When they returned home, Drew went inside, stating he had research to do. Corrine slipped Mitchell her key before heading upstairs.
How long to wait? Thirty minutes? An hour? Mitchell was nervous as hell. He hadn’t been with a woman in more than five years, and he had certainly never been with one he loved more than his life. His few previous encounters were brief—sex, not making love. To Mitchell’s mind, there was a difference. He had no doubts about his lovemaking ability, even with his leg still not up to snuff, but was unsure he could adequately show how much he loved her.
And he did. Oh, God, how I love her.
Thirty-five minutes later, Mitchell slipped the key in the lock and entered the darkened flat. “Corrine?”
She glided toward him, a luscious silken and lace silhouette in the moonlight. Corrine took his cane from him and tossed it aside. Then she removed his wool and suit coats and dropped them to the floor. Her evocative scent of roses and vanilla inundated his senses, making him dizzy with passion. He pulled her close, burying his face in her neck, draping kisses down her slender neck and across her collarbone. She had her hair down, and Mitchell reveled in the feel of it.
Corrine sighed softly as his hands traveled over the curve of her hips until he cupped her rear, bringing her against his aching erection. “I do not have much experience, darling,” he whispered as he ground his hips against her. “And it has been five years since the last of my four encounters.”
Corrine curled her tongue about his earlobe, wrenching a moan from him. “I have once, many years ago. I was lonely, and it happened so quickly, it barely left any impression on me.”
Mitchell smiled as he kissed her cheek. “Then we start with a fresh slate.”
Corrine grabbed his hand, pulling her toward her bedroom. “The sooner we get started, the better.”
The room was softly lit, giving enough illumination for him to see her nightgown more clearly. She looked beautiful in the shamrock green sheer confection that accentuated her luscious curves and generous breasts.
Corrine walked around him in a circle. Her fingers trailed across his rear, over his hip, until they reached his aching erection. She grasped him tight, eliciting an agonizing moan from him. Mitchell had never been this aroused before. He fumbled with the buttons on his waistcoat, so Corrine assisted him. The garment hit the floor, along with his shirt. She caressed him, exploring, kissing every inch of skin.
“Mitchell,” she rasped seductively. “I want no barrier between us.”
Mitchell grasped her chin, tilting it upward until she caught his gaze. “Are you sure? I have a sheath.”
“None.”
Mitchell smiled. “No sheaths, then. I want you. I always will.” He kissed her, his hands exploring her curves, caressing her breasts. As Corrine moaned in reply, he flicked his thumb across her erect nipple. Without breaking the kiss, they divested Mitchell of the rest of his clothes. He kicked his trousers and small clothes aside.
Corrine stepped back, giving him a thorough inspection, which caused him to grow harder. “Oh, you are well put together. In all ways,” she whispered.
Mitchell looped his arm about her waist and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. He stepped back, heading toward the bed, bringing Corrine with him. Laughing, she playfully pushed him down, pulled her silk nightgown over her head, and rolled in next to him. Mitchell couldn’t stop touching her. His hands were everywhere.
And when he slipped his hand between her legs, he moaned. “Wet. Gloriously wet.”
“And much to explore. But now? Make love to me.”
Mitchell did not need any further invitation. He rose above her. The anticipation had him trembling from need. How long he had waited for this. There. Perfection. Mitchell closed his eyes. He felt—complete. Alive. Home.
*
The feel of him filling her had Corrine’s heart beating furiously. Mitchell held still, as if savoring their joining. She moved her hips slightly, and a guttural groan escaped him.
“I could stay like this forever,” he ground out, his voice husky.
“As could I,” Corrine purred as she thrust upward. “However, I want this.”
“Always tell me what you want, in bed and out of it.”
“Oh, I shall.”
He started slow, with long, even strokes as they explored each other, kissing and caressing. Corrine gently nipped his shoulder, causing another of those glorious growls. The rhythm built, the pace quickening, and Corrine met each thrust with equal enthusiasm. Her desire was all-consuming. Before long, she was panting, yearning… She was so close….
“Come for me, darling,” Mitchell groaned.
That was all Corrine needed to hear. She let herself go and cried out his name. All she could see were colors swirling in her vision as her body trembled and shook with the intensity of her climax.
At her release, Mitchell’s body grew rigid. His teeth clenched, and he threw his head back in complete surrender.
They held each other for several minutes as their breathing regulated, and then Mitchell laid back down, pulling her into his embrace. “My God,” he rasped with awe.
“I agree. More?”
Mitchell chortled. “Oh, yes. Much more. And we have the entire night.”
“And the rest of our lives.”
They hadn’t discussed a future together. But it was implied. Implicit. Understood. Whatever word fit. Corrine wanted no other man.
The heart knew.
Mitchell smoothed her hair from her forehead. “All of it. Forever.”
*
The sun poured into the bedroom, rousing Mitchell from his slumber. He should have returned to his room before the sun peeked over the horizon, but he could not tear himself away from Corrine. She was curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder, breathing softly. Last night, they’d shown each other how much they cared, with their bodies as well as their words. And they had agreed to a future together. Mitchell had never been happier in his life.
And he was desperate for the future to start now. He kissed her forehead, and Corrine stirred. He loathed to wake her as she looked so contented and peaceful. He understood the feeling.
“My darling” he whispered, kissing her forehead again.
“Oh, I like it when you call me that,” she replied sleepily.
“I know I should be on bended knee, but I prefer it here, in bed, with you in my arms. I can’t think of a better way to propose to you. Marry me, my darling. You are everything I never thought I would find, and I do not want to waste another moment. I need you. I love you. You are life itself.”
Corrine looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Oh, yes. And we will do it right away—before the year is out. We will arrange it somehow. I cannot imagine drawing my next breath without you by my side. I love you so very much.” She leaned over to kiss him passionately. Then she sat up partway, braced by her elbow. “People will say it happened too swiftly. It’s only been a matter of weeks! How shocking! And so soon after her husband’s death! But I do not care about any of it. I never sought society’s approval, and I am not about to start now.”
Mitchell smiled. “Hear, hear. I completely agree.”
“You will think me forward, but last night, when you took a hansom to the Gransford town house to fetch Wright and the carriage to take us to supper, I had an interesting and illuminating conversation with Drew. He is well versed on many topics.”
“Yes, so I noticed,” Mitchell teased.
Corrine kissed his nose. “I asked about marriage and the quickest way to get it done. I thought of a registry office, but can you believe all the paperwork can take seven to ten days? Drew said the swiftest method is still the old way. A special license.”
“Married in a church? I am not one for regular church-going.”
“Neither am I, but that should not matter to a true man of God.”
Mitchell smiled. “Let me guess. Drew knows of the very man.”
Corrine laughed. “Of course, he does! He gave me the name and the church—a friend of his father’s. Remember, Viscount Hawkestone was a vicar for a few years. I say we get dressed and go at once to make plans. It will be a simple ceremony, with Drew and my brother as the only witnesses.”
Mitchell caressed her cheek. “And here comes the reality of the situation. I’m a detective in the Metropolitan Police. My income will not provide the lifestyle you were born into, regardless of financial struggles. You are the daughter of a viscount, the widow of a baron. Marrying me will be a step down into the middle class. Where will we live? In this tiny flat?”
“Or we can rent the upper flat until we make further decisions. Very well, a dose of reality. I have ten thousand pounds still left of the marriage settlement. We can live comfortably on the interest and your salary with proper investments.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten that Chambers said it is yours.”
“There is a good chance I will lose the monthly stipend as a dowager, but the dividends from that settlement money will more than make up for it. We can buy a modest house somewhere, get your parents’ furniture out of storage, and make a proper home. And you will continue to recover until you can return to work.” Corrine took his hand and kissed it. “I do not care for the trappings of the supposed upper crust; it has only brought me misery. I want you , my love. Wherever we live, it will be home. Our home—filled with love. And if we can manage it—children.”
Mitchell pulled her to sit upright on him, her knees on either side of his hips. “I adore this position. Remember from last night?” Mitchell would never forget it. Not ever.
“Oh, yes. I rather like this, too,” she murmured huskily as she slowly lowered, taking all of him. “In fact, I love it.”
“Then, ride me, my darling.”
*
Corrine smiled as she entered the kitchen. “Enjoy your holiday, Mrs. Evans.”
“Aye. And you and all, my lady. Blimey, I nearly forgot.” She bustled over to the icebox. “A delivery from The Crowing Cock. Here’s the note.”
Corrine opened it and read it.
For your Christmas Eve repast: A roast beef pie with assorted root vegetables, shallots, leeks, mushrooms, and red wine sauce. Also, smoked trout with saffron cream. Mince pies and fruitcake. As a thank you for all you have done and as a celebration for your future. Enjoy the holidays.
Liam Hallahan
Corrine was genuinely touched. It reinforced her first impression of Liam: gruff exterior but hidden depths that he did not show to just anyone.
“This is from a friend,” Corrine said softly. “He owns the restaurant and sent us a meal for tonight.”
“Nice of the man,” Mrs. Evans remarked. “I’ll reheat it for you after I’ve finished my cooking. Is that all right, my lady?”
“Perfect.”
*
Later that evening…
A table and chairs had been set up in the sitting room so Drew, Mitchell, and Corrine could gaze at the Christmas tree while enjoying their meal from Liam’s restaurant. Mitchell cut into the beef pie. “This is absolutely stunning.”
“I completely agree,” Drew replied. “And the fish course was lovely, too. What a decided advantage it is to have a talented chef in our group. Perhaps someday, he will think of us as friends.”
“And brothers?” Mitchell said.
“It is possible. Why not indeed?” Drew replied.
Mitchell raised his wine glass. “To The Duke’s Bastards. May we always rise above Chellenham’s loathsome legacy.”
“Hear, hear,” Drew and Corrine replied in unison.
“On that note,” Mitchell said after sipping the wine. “Corrine and I wish you to stand up with us. We are asking her brother, Jeffery, tomorrow.”
“Of course I will. Gladly. When is the happy occasion?”
Corrine smiled. “New Year’s Eve morning. We took your advice and met with the vicar at Bow Church in Stratford. Reverend Wilton was very accommodating and will be procuring the special license from the bishop. Afterward, we have decided to take a trip. Perhaps for a month or a little longer. But we are unsure how far to travel considering winter has arrived.”
“First, congratulations. And a honeymoon journey is just what you both need after the events of the past few months. I may know of a place.”
Mitchell laughed. “We hoped you might.”
“Within the Hornsby family, we have a few cottages scattered about Great Britain. There is one in Pevensey Bay along the southern coast. It’s a lovely spot near a delightful seaside village. It is only five miles from Eastbourne. You can rent a horse and carriage for the month when you get off the train. People in the village also work at the cottage when we use it. There is a cook and maid; they are a mother and daughter, and the son looks after the horse and grounds. If you decide to go there, I will send word to the family to prepare for your arrival.”
Corrine clapped her hands together with delight. Seeing Corrine so happy caused Mitchell’s heart to swell with joy. A month cloistered away in a seaside cottage? It sounded like heaven. “We will take it,” Mitchell murmured. “Thank you. Your generosity has overwhelmed me from the moment we met. You are a good friend—and brother.”
Drew flushed, the first time Mitchell had seen an unguarded emotional reaction from him.
“I would not have been able to get through the past several weeks without you. I will never forget it,” Mitchell continued.
Corrine raised her glass. “A Happy Christmas to us all. Oh, listen! I hear carolers!”
Corrine ran to the front window and looked outside. Eight people of various ages stood on the front walkway, singing. “It is one of my favorites.”
“I will go and let them in.” Drew disappeared into the hallway.
The carolers sang “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” then a beautiful rendition of “Coventry Carol.” Corrine held out the mince pies and cake platters while Drew and Mitchell gave everyone two shillings each, much to the gasps and joyful thanks of the carolers. After wishing them a Merry Christmas, the vocalists sang the boisterous “Gloucestershire Wassail” as they exited the room. Drew escorted them to the door.
“Wassail! Wassail! All over the town. Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown. Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree. With the wassailing bowl, we’ll drink to thee.”
Their harmonious voices faded as they moved farther along the street.
“They were wonderful,” Corrine enthused.
Drew entered the room. “A note was delivered just as I was about to close the door. On Christmas Eve, no less. It’s addressed to you, Corrine.”
Corrine tore it open. “I am to avail myself at one in the afternoon on the twenty-eighth at Mr. Dobson’s law office. The new baron will be there.” She folded the note and placed it in the envelope. “It is just as well. It’s best to get things settled. I will also tell them of my impending marriage. Will you come with me, Mitchell?”
“Of course. I am forever at your side.”
“I will have to send a message to Mr. Chambers. He should be there as well.”
“On that note, literally speaking, let us finish our meal,” Drew suggested.
Mitchell could not remember enjoying just being with people more. Knowing Danaher sat in a prison cell certainly added to the celebrations. But it was Christmas, and he had not participated in many holiday festivities since his parents passed. He’d met with some of his fellow policemen for a drink on Christmas Eve, but the next day, he usually worked or found a pub that was open and had a hot pot and a pint of stout.
From this day forward, all that would change. He had a new lease on life and would recover and return to his career. But the most important thing?
He had someone to love and someone who loved him in return.
A Merry Christmas, indeed.